


Hair

by kelex



Category: Smallville RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael likes John's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted under the alias "Lorelai Starr"

Michael was in love with John's hair. 

Not that he didn't like other things about his castmate. Because he did. But he couldn't get past the hair. Ever. It fascinated him.

And John, the bastard, knew it. His eyes twinkled with every taunting flip and wave of his hair, and Michael knew that John got a very intense pleasure out of flaunting it.

"And... action!"

Michael was glaring at the camera; all they needed was a good, angry closeup to use as a fade-away, and of course, John was there to help with the whole "Lex has to be angry at Lionel" dilemma. Flipping his fucking hair the whole time.

By the time the camera cut, the glare wasn't just for the script any longer, and it lingered long after the camera cut away, and they started blocking off the next scene, for Tom, Allison, and Sam. "John? Might I have a word with you?"

John smirked from the off side of the camera. "You can have more than one word with me, if you like." 

"Great." Michael was still glaring. He stalked off the set, and caught John following out of the corner of his eye. A few of John's long strides and he was walking side by side with Michael. "You're a bastard," Mike accused conversationally.

"A magnificent one, so I'm told." John was still smirking, and his hands were tucked casually into his pockets, slightly rumpling the crisp line of Lionel's suit. "What for this time?"

Michael made a rude noise at the magnificent comment. "The hair," he said succinctly.

John didn't cackle evilly. But he nearly did. Instead, he just fluffed his hair theatrically. "It does look good, doesn't it? They've finally stopped with the gel, after I threatened the stylist, and it's much more bouncy and doesn't drag."

"I. Don't. Give a shit. About the styling," Michael hissed, shoving John none-too-gently into Michael's trailer, and locking the door behind him. Then he grabbed double handfuls of it, and pulled John's face down an inch or so until they were eye to eye. "You. Are being. A bitch. Taunting me with your hair knowing I have to shave, every *fucking* day."

John's eyes flared, and he gave a little grin as he let his words ghost over his lover's lips. "It's not my fault your character is follicly challenged." He brought one hand up to run over Michael's chest, teasing the prickly hairs under it. "At least you get to keep this."

"Fuck... you," Michael snarled, and hauled John forward. The breath that had flowed over his mouth was hot, and the mouth that had breathed it out was no different. John's mouth was hot and wet, tasting unbelievably delicious and Michael devoured it hungrily.

John didn't struggle; his arms went around Michael's shoulders and hauled him in close, returning the kiss just as heatedly as his hands slid over his lover's back. They rose slowly, up to gently thumb the bare expanse of skin under Michael's little knob, and promised himself a later exploration of the little indention with his tongue.

Michael made a strangled sort of moan as John's talented fingers started exploring the back of his head, and he let go of the kiss briefly, gulping in breaths of cool air as he rested his forehead against the other man's. "Jesus Christ."

John chuckled softly, licking his lips and starting to unbutton Michael's shirt. "Thank you; I think that's first time anyone's called me that, especially *after* Brimstone." As each button opened, John dipped his head to kiss the thick forest of hair that peeked out.

"Arrogant bastard." Michael panted it softly as John's tongue did amazing things to his chest, and he wove his fingers through John's hair again. "Have I mentioned I love your hair?"

John gave a husky laugh into Michael's chest and looked up as his hands pushed the unbuttoned shirt off entirely. "I think... you might have mentioned it at some point." He went back to work, fingers now nimbly tugging down the zipper of Michael's slacks and unbuttoning the brass clasp that holds the black pants up. THe last thing he does is unbuckle the belt buckle, and the pants fall entirely to the side, and he's faced with his lover's bare, hard cock staring at him. He smiled. "Skipping underwear again?"

"Shut up," Michael grumbled. "It's your fault. If you weren't such a teasing bastard, I'd be able to wear underwear and not feel like I'm being strangled below the waist. But no, I have to go freeballing it like Welling and--"

"If you mention Tom one more time, I'll have to hurt you," John said severely, sliding his hand down Michael's chest, lingering briefly over his belly, and then slid down to stroke his lover's hard cock. His long fingers closed around the shaft and he started stroking carefully as he stood up straight, long enough to slide his own suit pants off and down to the side, so they wouldn't get dirty and wardrobe wouldn't crawl his ass. He left his shirt on, and leaned over just a little, to whisper in Michael's ear. "Which do you want, since it has to be fast? Do you want to fuck me or have me suck you off?"

Michael's knees almost buckled. It wasn't often that John indulged him in afternoon quickies like this, and he wanted to make the most of it. "Fuck you," he panted out in a gasp. 

John gestured to his carefully discarded trousers with a smile. "I thought you'd say something like that." He positioned himself over the tiny couch, knees braced comfortably on the couch cushions as he spread his thighs, and looked over his shoulder at his younger lover.

Michael deliberately didn't look at the pose of casual sensuality that John had assumed on the couch, instead concentrating what remained of his faculties on the search for lube. He found it in the bottom of his TV cabinet, and took a deep breath, gripping his cock tightly as he turned to look. His knees tried to turn to water but he marshaled his willpower, slicking his fingers and his cock as he walked so that as soon as he reached the couch, his fingers found the familiar opening and stroked into the tight warmth instantly.

John moaned softly, aware of the thinness of the trailer walls and he bit his tongue to keep in the louder cries as Michael's fingers probed deeply into him, spreading the slick gel carefully and he let his head drop to his forearms, muffling his moans in the couch as he felt his muscles start to twitch and pulse around his lover's digits. 

Michael trembled at the soft noises from John's throat, and knew from experience how much control it was taking for his lover to muffle them. His free hand stroked calmly over the other man's back as he added a second finger, repeating the careful stretching before stroking briefly with a third.

By the time Michael's fingers slipped out, John's body was taut with heat, need, and desire. He could feel the muscle stretched inside, and he opened his legs further, spreading his cheeks and inviting his lover to hurry in. "Michael... please," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

A hot shudder sliced through Michael at the whispered plea, and he stroked his cock again, spreading a final layer of cool slickness over the shaft before moving in close and grabbing John's hips. He bit his lower lip tightly as he sunk inch by inch into the tight passage that waited for him, and when he was done, their bodies were flush, and his chest was pressed tightly against John's slightly broader and smooth back. His eyes were screwed shut as he started to move, shallow thrusts that slowly turned into hard, pounding strokes as he withdrew his cock easily and slid back into the furnace of his lover's body.

Each stroke caused John's body to shiver, tightening around Michael's cock as it stroked into him, clinging tightly as it tried to withdrawl. His moans were muffled in the couch, and his fingers dug into the rough cushions as he rubbed his bearded cheek against it, listening to the scraping crackle and trying not to scream his pleasure at Michael's thorough fucking.

Michael's teeth sunk into John's shoulder as they rocked together, biting and muffling the cries that wanted to spill out of his own throat. He doubted their relationship was a secret on the lot but he wanted to keep it low-key, and that meant not crying out at every tight throb around his cock. He was pounding John now, and his hand slid over his lover's hip to grasp a cock that was hard, leaking, and waiting for his hand. The slick slide of both cocks sounded oddly similar, precome and lube both squelching softly in the tight clasps of flesh. Then he *stopped* thinking of anything, because it was impossible to think and listen to John whimpering under him, impossible to feel anything other than the boiling heat that his cock thrust into with every push of his hips.

John didn't have the luxury of his lover's shoulder to sink his teeth into, and he'd make Michael pay for that later. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the need to come, the sharp sting of teeth in his shoulder which radiated pleasurable shocks straight to his cock, and he rocked his hips forward into Michael's hand and then back onto his cock. Muffled whimpers and begging noises spilled out of him again and again, rocking on the little couch and pleading for harder, faster, and release all at the same time.

The buzzer was sounding on the stage, which meant fifteen minutes until they re-convened, and Michael groaned. He sped up, hammering faster and harder, rubbing his cock over John's prostate with each powerful stroke into his lover. His thumb rubbed over the head of John's cock, which was steadily leaking as they fucked, and then he felt his lover coming.

John's entire body shook with it as he came. He felt it rushing through his body as Michael rubbed over his prostate, and his body locked. Couldn't help it; his sheath trapped Michael's cock deep inside him for long moments as he came, his sheath pulsing as his erection throbbed out his orgasm. Harsh groans were muffled into the couch and he grunted, hips thrusting into Michael's hand as it squeezed him tightly. 

Michael bit down harder on John's shoulder, knowing he'd pay for it later and not really giving a damn as he tried not to howl. John's body had sucked his cock in to the hilt and held it there, throbbing around his cock, and the pulsing was almost his undoing. He rode out the last waves of John's orgasm and let go of his cock before gripping his lover's hips again. He was too close now, and he started rocking again, pounding deeply with jagged strokes that grew shorter and shorter with encroaching orgasm. He came when John looked over his shoulder, deep eyes half-lidded, hair that was somehow attractive even when tangled with sweat, and kiss-swollen lips that were parted slightly, panting and whispering his name.

A soft moan escaped them both as Michael's seed emptied into John's body, and he leaned over, pressing their bodies together. John's shirt was stuck to his body with sweat, and Michael kissed him again, nibbling on the lips presented to him as he slowly slid out of his lover. "Come on, we've barely got time to clean up before we have to go back."

John closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them with a cocky grin in place. "I don't believe it's going to be a great mystery to anyone, Michael." He ached slightly from his lover's vigorous use but it felt delightful as he straightened. "But yes, we should clean up." He peeled the sticky shirt off, and gave his lover a teasing flip of his hair. "Do you want to wash my hair?"

Michael's loud volley of cursing echoed throughout the set.

The End


End file.
